


Shattered

by DovaBunny



Series: Fenders Ficlets [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fenders, Fenders Friday, Happy Ending, M/M, No Angst August, Or rather just-a-little-angst-but-it's-all-cool-in-the-end August, fairy-tale au, set in canon Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny/pseuds/DovaBunny
Summary: "Tucked away in a small Ferelden town lived a man with a very special ability. He was kind, gentle, and friendly, he always helped where he could and would never so much as hurt a fly. Only, he was a very lonely man, the only one amongst the men and women of his home not to have a soulmate, who wished for nothing more than someone to love. It is here that our story begins. "A Fenders Friday story for No Angst August. First week's theme: The First Kiss





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the wonderful [ SocialDeception ](https://social-deception.tumblr.com/) (check out her awesome [ FenHawke story with a hot rocker Fenris: Disclosure ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6193105/chapters/14188363)) and the talented [ CJ (Choco Java) ](http://chocojavaa.tumblr.com/) (spoil your face and go look at her insanely gorgeous [ art blog here ](http://choco-java.tumblr.com/)).

 

Tucked away in a small Ferelden town lived a man with a very special ability. He was kind, gentle, and friendly, he always helped where he could and would never so much as hurt a fly. Only, he was a very lonely man, the only one amongst the men and women of his home not to have a soulmate, who wished for nothing more than someone to love. It is here that our story begins.

 

“Good morning Pounce!” Anders smiled down at the happy ginger tabby curling around his ankles. “No, no I’ve already fed you. Flattery will get you nowhere. Well, this time. I’m putting my foot down mister! You’re getting fat.”The cat just purred louder and rubbed his furry cheeks against Anders, who just laughed and shook his head.

Anders returned to his work. His table, filled with bowls of clay and cups of water, was situated in front of a big window. Pots and plants filled the room with lush, fresh greenery; hanging from above, sitting on the window sill, and filling the shelves all the way to the door.  

Anders knew the bell at the door would alert him to any potential customer strolling into his shop. The sign outside said ‘Apothecary & Herbalist’, but he was also well known amongst the higher class townsfolk for his flowers.

Clay- and mud-slicked hands worked gently while Anders hummed a tune. Pounce hopped onto the table and curled up in his corner for a nap in the warm, morning sun. Slowly, under patient touches, the clay took shape - a stem, a leaf, a root. Anders kept at it until he was satisfied with his replication of an Elfroot plant. He then took a deep breath, and channeled warm, tingly green and blue magic tendrils which leapt from his fingertips onto the clay stems. Where it touched and seeped in, the clay turned to green, and the little sculpture became a living plant.

Anders quickly washed his hands, then scooped up the plant to neatly pot and watered it, a satisfied smile on his face.

He still remembered the first time he discovered his gift. He had been 9 years old, and more than anything in the whole world, wanted a kitten. His father refused, not having the will or means to give the boy a pet.

Anders’ mother was a talented sculptor, so one night he snuck into her workshop, determined that if he couldn’t have a real one, he would at least have a toy one to play with. He worked on it all through the night, burning the midnight oil, until he was happy with his little creation.  

He started petting the smooth, wet clay on the little figure’s back. “Hello,” he spoke softly. “I will call you Ser Whiskers. Do you like that?”

The young blond boy sat on his mother’s high work chair and smiled at his little creation, trying to imagine what it would sound like if it could purr.

“Ser Whiskers?” he whispered like he was telling a secret. “I know da doesn’t want me to, but I wish you were real…”

As the words left his mouth, Anders felt something in his hand heat and tingle. A little sputtery at first, magic started the hum through his fingers and into the clay making it glow. Slowly but surely, the figure started to warm and move, clay became fur, and eyes blinked. Before Anders could stop himself, he had a mewling kitten, one which promptly clambered into his lap and started purring.  

His father did not take well to his gift, however, calling him an abomination. He declared that only the Maker could give and take life, as he took the kitten and threw it across the room. Anders watched in horror as the little furry body hit the wall and shattered into pieces like a one of his mother’s baked clay jugs. Crying out in anguish he ran to the broken pieces, tried again and again to fix it with his magic, but nothing worked - he couldn’t bring Ser Whiskers back.

That night, he ran away from home.

He ran for many years; from his past and himself. It was here in Redcliffe that he finally came to terms with his gift, learned to accept it, and found a way to use it. He was hiding in plain sight, practicing his magic in his store right in the market district. The people adored him, he felt appreciated for his gift, and he was finally at peace with his magic.

Anders broke out of his reverie and turned away from the window where he had been absently staring out while sipping herbal tea. He took three bundles of lilies, neatly wrapped them up, and set out to deliver them to the Chantry. As much as he disliked their doctrine on magic, they did pay really well for his flowers to cheer up the gloomy place with beautiful scents and sights.

It was a short walk from his shop to the Chantry, and a beautiful day in Ferelden. The sun was pleasantly warm, the breeze light, and everywhere around him were happy faces. He greeted the regulars on his way.

“Ah! Anders dear boy. We have been expecting you. My my, aren’t those lovely.”

“Greetings Mother Giselle,” Anders smiled kindly to the woman who was awaiting him at the doors. “I am pleased you like them.”

“Beautiful, as are all your flowers. Do you mind waiting a moment before I go get your fee though? There is a wedding ceremony going on at present, but it is almost finished.”

Anders assured her it would be fine, then peeped into the chantry. He recognised the bride, he had made her bouquet just that morning, not knowing it was for her wedding. She was speaking, and he could just about make out her words.

“My dearest Herold, I swear to love you fiercely and completely. I know we are soulmates, destined for each other. As sure as the Maker has shown me your face in my dreams, I know this to be true.”

Anders’ friendly expression fell and he stepped away. Soulmates. The Maker granted people a glimpse of their soulmate through their dreams, always between the ages of 15 and 20. All that was then left was to find that person and live happily ever after.

Anders was 32, and had never had a dream like that, nor had anyone ever come to find him.

The ceremony finished soon after. Mother Giselle must have noticed how his smile was suddenly strained and his eyes distant, because she quickly retrieved his pay and bid him farewell.

Anders slowly made his way back, but decided to take the longer route by the docks. He was in no rush to be back in his empty little apartment above his store. He stopped by the steps and watched the waves gently lap at the boats. His eyes trailed the horizon, then stopped at the statue of Andraste standing proudly, hands over her heart while looking down with a gentle smile.

“Bet you dreamt of the Maker too, huh?” He asked with a sad smile. “Lucky.”

He remained quiet for a while, before looking up into her gentle face, speaking softly. “Am I really that unloveable? Is my magic such a sin that I am destined to be alone forever?”

He sighed heavily, feeling it shudder in his chest painfully. “I would give it up you know, just to have someone to love. Is that too much to ask? To have someone too? ...Please?”

Anders dropped his head and wiped away the tear that had escaped. He’d cried about this enough and his tears brought no relief. He turned away and slowly made his way home, not seeing the way the statue’s heart glowed.

 

That night - Anders dreamed.

In his dream he saw a young boy, an elf, with the greenest eyes, olive skin, and beautiful short dark hair. He watched the boy play with his sister, a younger red head who kept him on his toes. He watched the boy help his mother in the kitchen, and practice with a wooden sword in the garden. The boy beamed proudly as his mother and sister waved him off while he entered an arena with other boys of similar age. He emerged victorious, but instead of honour and glory, he was put in chains, taken away, and strapped down onto a table. Anders saw an older human, the man called the boy ‘Fenris’. He then saw the room light up, the sickly tendrils of blood magic in the air. A olive skinned hand in heavy metal clasps struggled and pulled fiercely...then it went limp.

Anders woke up in a cold sweat, eyes wet and heart racing.  “You… you died. That’s why.”

His heart ached as he tried to calm himself; it ached for the boy with so much life and hope in his bright green eyes, and the injustices that had been done to him. It ached for what they never had, for what he was never able to give the man the boy would’ve become… Fenris.

Unable to sleep, Anders got up out of bed, lit a candle, and set to work.

All through the night and early morning hours he moulded, sculpted, and formed. The image of Fenris the boy, standing proud in the arena, burned into his memory lead his hands as he created Fenris the man.

It was just after noon the following day when Anders first took a step back and sat down to admire his creation. It was him, Fenris, a few years older, sure, but it was his perfect image.

Anders ran his fingers through his dusty blond hair and bit his lip as he thought. He could bring life to the statue, he was sure of it even though he had never brought life to anything larger than Pounce. It would not be Fenris’ soul, but it would be someone. Someone he could care for, love, and find companionship in.

Would he dare?

Slowly his hands started to glow with tendrils of blue and green. He cautiously reached out and touched the hand of the statue until it warmed and turned to skin. He stood before the statue, closed his eyes and recalled every detail as he let his magic channel into the clay - the olive tan of his skin, the dark brown of his hair, the green of those expressive eyes…

...eyes that blinked at him curiously when he finally looked up.

“Hello Fenris,” Anders managed as his breath caught in his throat. It was hard to breathe, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Fenris was even more beautiful than in his dreams.

“Who are you?” the elf asked, and, oh, his voice was like melted chocolate and fine wine.

“I’m Anders. I’m your soulmate, in another life.”

 

Over the next few weeks Anders taught Fenris everything from how to walk, talk, and eat, to Thedas geography, potion making, and herbalism. Fenris proved to be a very quick study, intelligent and curious.

“Anders, why are those humans attached at the hands while they walk? That cannot be practical.”

Anders looked up and followed Fenris’ eyes while they were walking along the docks, on their way back from a delivery.

“They’re holding hands, Fenris. It’s something people do when they like one another and want to signify that they’re together.”

Anders watched as Fenris looked at them thoughtfully for a moment, shifted his focus down at Anders’ hand, then took it and continued to walk.

Anders felt his heart pounding in his chest. Such a simple gesture, something as trivial as someone taking his hand, and he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. He blushed furiously instead and bit his lip.

“Everything alright Anders?”

“Mmhmm,” he nodded.

“You are a rather deep shade of red. Is it me holding your hand?”

Anders ducked his head then nodded again, knowing that his voice would be too shaky were he to speak now. Maker’s tits, had his hands always been this clammy?

“I don’t see why it would. I like you, I wish to signify that we are together. Do you not… like me?”

Fenris started to let go, but Anders quickly tightened his grip on the elf’s hand.

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, I- I like you,” he stammered. “It’s just- No one has ever held my hand before, is all.”

Fenris just let out a huff. “Fools.”

Anders grinned like an idiot all the way home. And so what if he took a few detours and walked a bit slower than usual?

 

Slowly but surely, Fenris developed a personality and character of his own. He was stoic and strong, but gentle with his hands and eyes. He liked apples, reading, and wine, disliked fish and pretentious upper class folk. He was fascinated by Anders’ gift, and could watch him work for hours.

Anders was endlessly patient with Fenris’ questions and lessons. It wasn’t long before he felt himself lose his heart to the man. He revelled in finally having someone, someone he could cook for, share his life and home with, someone who cared about him and made sure he slept enough.

“Anders?” Fenris’ deep voice came in the dark from his bed across the room. His voice never failed to caress Anders’ ears like a lovers’ touch.

“Yes Fenris?”

“What is ‘ _love’_?”

Anders was quiet for a moment. “Why do you ask?”

“Often in my books the hero would ‘love’ another character, then go to extreme lengths to save them. I am not quite sure I understand the concept.”

“Well,” Anders swallowed thickly. “Love is… Love is one of the deepest and most fundamental feelings a person can have. It is a strong emotion and devotion you have for someone, someone you care for above all others. You will do anything to make them happy, to keep them safe, and to share your heart with them. It is a beautiful and powerful thing that could very well drive any man or woman to great lengths for the one they love - the one they belong to.”

The silence in the room was heavy, only the dim starlight creeping in through the window illuminating the room.

“Anders?” his voice came softer and slower than usual.

“Yes?”

“I-, I think I… That is to say-” Fenris grumbled. “- I am not storybook hero, nor do you need saving. But I want you to know… I am yours.”

Anders’ hands grasped at his night shirt over his chest, in fear that his heart would burst out of his rib cage. A tear escaped and rolled over his nose where he was lying on his side. He had to take a few moments before he could control the emotion in his voice and chest.

“As I am yours, Fenris.”

Anders’ breath caught in his throat as his cheeks started hurting from smiling. He heard something at Fenris’ bed, then soft footfalls. With little ceremony Fenris approached his bed, lifted the covers, and slipped in next to him, taking his hand.

Anders took a moment to just take it all in, then shift up to curl into the elf’s side, resting his head on Fenris’ shoulder. Anders closed his eyes, thanking the Maker and his bride for granting him this gift, even if he had to wait 32 years for this moment.

 

The days passed in bliss. During the day Fenris helped Anders by tending to the plants, they walked together to make deliveries, holding hands, and at night Fenris crawled into Anders’ bed so Anders could curl up around him.

Anders was completely lost to his soulmate, and Fenris seemed happy to be near Anders as he learned more about life and love. He devoured every book Anders got him, and soon enough they started visiting bookstores around town, going for day excursions to nearby sights, and saving up to travel around Thedas.

 

“And they lived happily ever after. The end,” Anders finished with a smile and closed the book. Next to him Fenris huffed and cuddled up around Anders’ tall frame, wrapped up cozily in their bed on the cold night. Pounce was happily curled up at their feet.

“Did you not like the story, Fenris?”

Fenris was quiet for a moment as he thought. “Why must storybooks make is seem as though true love and ‘happily ever after’ can only exist between a human man and a human woman? Why does the hero never fall in love with another man? Where is the story about the hero dwarf saving a qunari, or human falling for a elf…” Fenris’ voice turned softer as he spoke, adding the last bit as if to himself.

Anders blinked down at Fenris. “Well, I don’t know if ‘happily ever afters’ exist either, and I have never read one between an elf and a human. But if those stories are not written, why not... make them ourselves?”

Fenris looked up, a hopeful expression in those emerald green eyes. “Would you believe that possible?” he asked softly in that deep voice.

Anders slowly lifted a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind Fenris’ elegant, pointed ear. “More than possible… I believe it true.”

Fenris let out a small gasp as Anders thumb traced down over the curve of his ear, over his cheekbones to his chin, lifting it just so.

“Fenris… I-”

The sound of a window crashing and a bloodcurdling scream disturbed them.

“Anders?!” Fenris immediately threw himself protectively over Anders as his head whipped around. Anders turned to the window and saw the bursts of orange light.

“Fire,” Anders answered quickly. They both jumped off the bed and hurriedly got dressed before rushing outside.

It was the chantry. Huge flames were engulfing the building, lickig at the shops and homes surrounding it.

“The orphans! We must evacuate them!” Mother Giselle’s voice rang. “They’re in the attic rooms!”

“There’s no time! Get the sisters and get out, now!”  

All around them people were lining up from the well to the chantry to pass buckets of water on, but it was futile.

Anders felt a tingling warmth in his palm. He could stop this, save those kids and possible other buildings from being destroyed, but at the cost of outing his magic…

His thoughts were disrupted by crash of the chantry’s windows bursting and a child’s screams.

Anders threw one last glance at Fenris, his eyes wide and panicked at the fire.

“Wait here,” he asked. Fenris looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded.

Anders stepped up to the building, closed his eyes, and focused on summoning his magic. Lifting his arms to the fire, he brought forth waves of frost, flowing and crashing into the flames, dousing them.

There were collective gasps, prayers, and thanks to the Maker, but Anders didn’t hear any of it as he focused on putting out the fire completely. When the last flame died guards and sisters rushed forth to get to the children trapped on the second floor.

Fenris was there in an instant to help steady Anders. It’s been a very long time since he’s used that much magic and felt very drained and tired.

“Fenris,” he panted. “We need to leave, to get out of the city. Now!”

“But, you saved those children? Surely they won’t-”

“Fenris, please, you don’t know people like I do.”

Fenris nodded and quickly helped Anders slip away amidst the chaos.

Anders stumbled through the door and immediately started packing. “Fenris, get our savings from under the floorboards and food for the road, I’ll grab our clothes and-”

Loud banging on the door disrupted them. “Open up! We know there’s a mage in here!”  

Fenris turned scared, wide eyes to Anders who had dropped his backpack.

“We’re out of time!” Anders whispered out of breath. He frantically picked the back back up, stuffed two shirts and his coin purse in it and shoved it into Fenris’ hands. “It’s not too late for you, quickly - out the back window! I’ll distract them.”

“No!”

“Fenris, please, I beg of you…”

“No Anders, I will not leave you! We will fight if we must - together.”

As if summoned, the Templars chose that moment to break down the door, bursting into the room.

“Halt mage!”

Pounce hissed and jumped out the open window. Fenris stepped in front of Anders, shielding him. “You shall not have him! This man has committed no sin!”

“He is a mage! He _is_ a sin! Now step aside lest you be arrested too.”

“I shall not let you lay a hand on him,” Fenris growled before lunging at the nearest Templar.

In a flash Fenris dashed around the room, dancing around the Templars. He was fast, much faster than they were in their heavy armour. He tore a dagger off the one’s belt, shoving it in beneath the helmet of the other. He ducked out of the way of a swinging blade, kicked at the hilt and tore the sword from their hands to turn it on them.

Anders, who had never used his magic for harm, jumped into action at seeing his love fighting for him. Ice and lightning jumped from his fingertips to the templars. He’d freeze one, and then Fenris would bash him to pieces. He’d shock another, and Fenris would knock him out. They were a formidable team.

“Alright,” Anders panted. “I think that’s all of them.” He quickly turned to collect their things he’d thrown down. “I’ll just get our things then we need to-”

A cry tore from his love’s throat, causing Anders to whip back, just in time to watch Fenris’ wide eyes, blood trickling down his lips as he slowly looked down at the sword protruding through his chest.

“No!”

Anders cried out in anguish and blasted the last wounded Templar who had gotten back up without them noticing. The bolt he sent out was stronger than any he’d used before, and tore through the Templar’s head.

“Fenris!”

Anders rushed forward as Fenris dropped to his knees and swayed. Big green eyes met his, full of sadness and worry.

“Anders… I’m sorry…”

Before Anders could catch him, Fenris fell forward- and shattered into pieces of clay.

“NOOO!!!”

Anders fell to his knees amongst the broken pieces, shaking hands desperately trying to pull them back together, but it was futile.

“No no no no no, oh please Maker, no!” Tears blurred his vision and dripped onto the hard clay fragments. Frantically he tried to channel his magic into the remains, but there was nothing.

“He’s in here!”

Anders heard voices calling outside. He had to run, now, lest Fenris’ sacrifice be in vain. He angrily wiped the tears from his eyes, grabbed the largest and most whole fragment - the one with half of Fenris’ face, expression of fear and longing - along with his bag, and jumped out the back window.

Anders didn’t know for how long or far he ran, or in which direction. His vision was blurred with tears, his mind lost, seeing the vision of Fenris looking up at him with desperate eyes before falling and shattering. His chest was raw and aching.

Anders arrived at a small waterfall and all but collapsed in exhaustion. He dropped his back, burried his face in his hands and cried.

“Maker why,” he cried, his shoulders shaking as sobs wracked through his body. “He didn’t deserve this… Why Maker!” he screamed in anger and pain. “Why did you give him to me only to rip him away!?”

Shaky hands carefully pulled out the fragment from his pocket and clutched it to his chest.

“I…” Anders whispered through the tears, voice hoarse. “I never even got to kiss him. Never got to tell him I loved him… Oh Maker, please. We didn’t have enough time.”

Anders sat on the bank of the stream alone, crying desperately while holding a piece of his broken heart. His chest ached with painful emptiness, and he could barely catch his breath through the sobs that raked through his body. He didn’t know how long he stayed there - moments- hours - but it no longer mattered.

“Maker… Anyone! _Please!_ ” he begged and wept. “We didn’t have enough time… I need him.”

Anders felt his hair against his neck stirr. He ignored it, too lost in his anguish. Next came a sensation akin to a caress, but not quite, over his back where he was folded in on himself. He allowed it to comfort him without questioning. It was the bright light peeking through between his fingers that finally had him look up and gasp.

A being, a glowing spirit, appeared before him. He couldn’t make out its nature, but he knew it meant him no harm.

“Who- who are you?” he asked, wiping at his eyes.

The being took a near shapeless form, and slowly walked into the stream, turning away and bending down. When it turned back to him it carried in its hands a bundle of fresh smooth clay, held out to him.

Anders didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to think - but the request was clear. He carefully set down the piece and took the clay.

He set to work immediately, crafting and sculpting, building his soulmate up from his toes to the hair on his head. He worked quickly, the clay from the stream was the best he’d ever worked with, smooth and soft, but strong once set into place.

His mind was occupied with recalling every little detail, the curve of Fenris’ left ear, that kink in his hair, the tone of his calves. He had just reached the shoulders when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked over to see the being holding out the fragment of Fenris’ beautiful face to him.

His first reaction was anger for having dared touched that which was most precious to him, but then he realised the spirit was trying to guide him. He carefully took it, and moulded it into the sculpture’s face, gently working the clay over it to remove the looks of fear. The being stayed nearby, watching over him like a guardian.

Once he was finished he turned back. It slowly approached the creation, circling it, then came to stand behind it. It seemed to wait on something, so Anders took a deep breath, the ache in his chest still blindingly painful, then lit his hands with magic tendrils of blue and green, and let it flow into the clay.

Slowly his magic warmed the sculpture, bringing colour, but then all of a sudden, the being surged forward and merged with his magic, causing an eruption of light and fade power. Anders was knocked clear off his feet.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to see a body lying next to him. He scrambled up to pull it into his lap - skin warm, steadily breathing. Only, the body was covered in swirls of brilliant white lines that pulsed with fade magic, hair white and soft as snow.

Slowly, familiar big emerald green eyes opened to him.

“Anders?”

Anders stared, wide golden eyes still wet, tear streaks down his cheeks, lips parted in shock.

“F-Fenris?”

Big green eyes smiled up at him. “I am Leto. You’ve known me as Fenris. I- I’m your soulmate. I’ve been watching you, from the fade.”

“Leto…” Anders breathed, feeling life return to the hollow of his chest. Hands roamed over olive skin, finding it warm and whole instead of the cold, wet clay. Happy tears prickled at his eyes. “Maker’s breath. It’s… It really is you. You’re alive! But ho-”

Before he could continue, his words were stolen by warm lips. Warm, soft lips that moved against his, fingers tangling up over his neck and into his hair. The kiss went on as Leto kissed him desperately and Anders crushed him to his chest.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” Leto murmured against his lips. “You have no idea how it felt to see you hurt because I wasn’t there. I always wished to to be like the heroes from your books - but it was you who saved me - who brought me back from the fade.”

“Leto…” Anders smiled through the tears, pulling the elf into his lap and hugging him tightly, burying his face into Leto’s neck to take in his scent and warmth. “I’ve waited so long for you my love.”

“As have I, my mage. As have I.”

 

So it was that Anders and his true soulmate, who had been watching over him from the fade all this time, were finally reunited. A human whose broken hearted cries for the elf he fell for echoed across the veil over shattered pieces of clay, calling upon the spirits of Love, Compassion, and Mercy to open the veil so that his soulmate may finally return to him.

Maybe stories did have happily ever afters after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Keep your eyes peeled for more upcoming Fenders Fridays! I also recommend you check out other writers and artists' Fenders Friday's works on the [ Fenders Creative Association blog ](http://fendersassoc.tumblr.com/)
> 
> As always, [ I'm on Tumblr! ](https://dovabunny.tumblr.com/) Stop by, say hi, swoon over Fenders with me <3


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